Doing The Right Thing

Since we were contacted by Patrick’s case worker, I have learned a couple of things.  I’ve learned that some people have strong opinions about pre-teen boys.  And, I have learned that the more someone tells me to do something, the more determined I get to do what I think is right.

And, what do I think is right?

What I think is right, is not necessarily trying to adopt him.  But, it’s not necessarily not.  What I really think is right is staying open to what is supposed to happen.  Brian and I both believe strongly that things happen for a reason.  If I got pregnant on our honeymoon, as was my master plan, we may never explored adoption.  It might never have occurred to us.  I’d like to think that we would have, but probably not.  And, if we had never explored adoption, I wouldn’t be the mother to 3 absolutely, amazing, wacky children.  But, I didn’t  get pregnant and we did explore adoption and I am mom to these wonderfully crazy, little children.  And, that is what was supposed to happen.  If you told me that I could snap my fingers and have that baby in my belly that I wanted so badly, but I wouldn’t have William, Antwan, and Lizzie; the answer would be no, a million times no. 

This is why when the Patrick “storyline” began, we were both ready to let things go ahead and unfold, not to be redundant, but as they are supposed to.  Most people immediately wondered if we were going to try to adopt him.  It’s a fair question and one that I don’t mind answering; even though, I don’t actually have an answer.  Some tried to squelch the idea right away, out of fear that we’d do something impulsive.  The thing is, we are aware that he’s not a stray cat.  We’re not going to let him stay because he keeps showing up at the door.  We also don’t have to decide today because it’s not like the Lizzie situation.  She was 2.5 weeks old and they were trying to place her in an adoptive home as soon as possible.  We had to decide and went with our guts (after our guts talked to each other a lot.)  And, as it turns out, our guts are pretty smart.  (Ok, enough of the gut talk!)  Lizzie is pretty amazing and our lives wouldn’t be the same without her. 

So, when my big sister expressed her concerns, I didn’t get upset.  She’s earned that right.  This is not to suggest that I liked it.  No one wants to be told things that they don’t want to hear. 🙂  But, it’s ok.  And, when my mom was worried that we’d act impulsively, it was also understandable.  (After all, she’s watched us rescue a lot of our stray cats…)  

The facts.  He’s 12.  He’s been through too much.  He’s got issues that I have yet to see.  And, he’s their brother. 

I’m ok with the concerned look in people’s eyes because it’s a concerning situation.  But, it’s also exciting.  Regardless of how it is or ends up, these kids now have an opportunity to get to know each other.  There is currently no bad in that.

Ok, this is what I’m officially not ok with.   

We bought bunk beds.  We have been wanting some in William’s room.  We thought it would be nice if he could have a sleep over and actually have somewhere for his friend to sleep.  And, to be totally honest, I’ve always wanted bunk beds, so his friend, sleeping over, might be me.  🙂

I became more anxious to buy them when we realized that Patrick would most likely be visiting sometime in the summer.  He would need a place to sleep.  So, when I saw a set at the thrift store.  I calmly (excitedly) explained to Brian that it was a sign (because you never see bunk beds at the thrift store) and we should buy them (immediately).  They were also cheaper than any I had seen anywhere and I’d been doing my research.  So, we bought them.  We are now the proud owners of a set of bunk beds that still reside at the thrift store; because we have no way to get them home.   Spoiler alert: If you’re one of my real-life friends, you might be getting a favor request!   Especially, if you have a truck.  Please answer your phone… 😉

Anyway, while paying, I got into a conversation with the cashier.  She’s a nice lady who has also adopted transracially out of foster care, so I feel bonded to her.  She mentioned that the boys would have fun with the bunk beds.  I agreed and added that their 12 year old brother would be visiting and he’d now have a place to sleep.

She looked at me, intently and said “Just to visit?  Not to be in your home permanently?”

Yes, I answered, we were currently just planning visits.

“Oh, good  You’ve never been there, you don’t know.  You couldn’t pay me to take someone else’s 12 year old….”

She said more.  How much they eat, etc.  But, I was stuck on the phrase “someone else’s.”
Doesn’t she get it?  He isn’t someone else’s!  He’s a dependent of the state.  He belongs to the case worker, the foster mother and the system.  (On a side note, by all accounts, the foster mother is wonderful and I met the case worker, so I know she’s aweseome.)  He’s not the birth mother’s because, well, she sucked.  He’s not his last adoptive parents’ because the whole thing evidently sucked.  He deserves to be someone’s.  Every kid does. 

For the record, the cashier really is a very nice woman and I know she had no intention of offending me.  Much less, get me rushing home to write a blog. 😉

It just bothered me and made my heart break for him a little more.  What has happened to these children is unfair.  And, it is not their fault.  He is not someone else’s random 12 year old.  He is this 12 year old.  He is my children’s brother.  He is a kid who likes wrestling, his Nintendo 3ds, and his siblings. 

So, I don’t care if he’s 2, 12, or 22.  He can come visit.  He can eat too much of my food.  My kids already do that, anyway.  And, I will try to make him feel loved.  That much I am sure of.   

And, that is definitely what I think is right.

5 thoughts on “Doing The Right Thing

  1. You once again help to remind me just how many good people there are in this world and why it is worth fighting for.


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